Drop of Blood from my Slit Wrists

What have I got to live for?
People around me are always asking for more,
They drive me insane,
Still they wonder why I complain.

Just leave me alone,
Otherwise harsh verbal is what will be prone,
Or I'll end up committing suicide,
That will fill their lives with pride.

Knowing that they've driven me to taking my life,
With one swift movement of a knife,
They'll be feeling a sense of regret,
And a day that they will try and forget,

So as the police cover my face with a white sheet,
Finally my slow death is now complete,
Because thankfully I no longer exist,
As they lift me off the floor,
One dropp of blood falls from each of my slit wrists.

By Jay Basey © 2004